


Last First Kiss

by ArcticLucie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Writer Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticLucie/pseuds/ArcticLucie
Summary: Derek knew he shouldn’t do it, his own privacy a sacred thing he valued above all else, but Stiles left his laptop open again, and Derek couldn’t help the curiosity calling to him from the bright screen. Curiosity killed the cat, you know. He should’ve known it could kill a wolf too.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 12
Kudos: 267





	Last First Kiss

Derek knew he shouldn’t do it, his own privacy a sacred thing he valued above all else, but Stiles left his laptop open again, and Derek couldn’t help the curiosity calling to him from the bright screen. Curiosity killed the cat, you know. He should’ve known it could kill a wolf too.

Stiles had spent the last several nights at his loft huddled in front of his laptop, and Derek had to listen to the incessant staccato of long, enticing fingers tapping away at the keys for hours. He had to watch as the tip of Stiles’ tongue crested his lips every time he fell down a deep well of concentration. And don’t even get him started on the smell, arousal and want mixing with a pinch of desperation that drown out the usual soothing scent of Stiles.

He had a problem, see, and it all boiled down to that stupid word document on Stiles’ computer. The one he could almost read from across the room. The one that taunted him as he tried and failed to comprehend the last paragraph of his current chapter for what felt like the hundredth time. He gave up and dog eared the page, closing his book and inching closer to the screen, just enough that the words came into focus. 

And he read.

> _ I see him in the bar every Friday night, his green eyes glowing in their intensity as he watches the crowd. Our eyes never make contact, my shy side forcing my gaze away before his gets to me, but I wonder if he can feel it when I look back. I wonder if he can sense my desire from across the room. _
> 
> _ I toss back the last bit of rum in my glass and push away from the bar. The liquid courage has me feeling bold, and I smile to myself having decided tonight’s the night I make my move. Tonight’s the night I have my first wolf. _

And nope, Derek should not read anymore.

> _ “Can I buy you a drink,” I offer. _
> 
> _ The smile I get in return is full of heat and wanton possibilities, and my breath hitches when he leans in to whisper in my ear. “Thought you’d never ask.” _

Derek jumped when a car door slammed outside. Not Stiles’ jeep, but it gave him a momentary reality check. He should’ve stopped right there, equal parts afraid and intrigued to know where the story might lead, but he’d already broken Stiles’ trust. In for a penny, in for a pound. So, he skimmed past a sensual dance and ridiculous flirting to the part where the main character got dragged outside and into the car of some guy named Darren.

He did not read into that.

> _ I’m so hard in my jeans, and I relish in the freedom when Darren unzips them and thrusts his hand inside to grab my cock. I moan at the contact and hope I don’t sound half as desperate as I feel. But I have a deep need for him growing in my soul, and I don’t know how much longer I can wait for him to fill it. _

Derek could not. 

He absolutely could.  _ Not. _

He forced his eyes away and surged to his feet to book it up the stairs, long strides carrying him toward the shower, because if he didn’t get himself under control, Stiles would see right through him. Who knew Stiles thought about fucking werewolves? Not Derek because that would’ve opened him up to the idea of hope, and he’d spent far too long cultivating a friendship with Stiles to throw it away on something like that.

He only bothered with the cold water, his heated skin in need of taming, but the memory of Stiles’ scent as he wrote werewolf porn, had Derek’s mind tangled up with lust. He wanted to touch himself. He wanted to run his hands down his body and take his heavy cock in hand as he thought about Stiles fingers moving elegantly in their place, about that wild tongue tracing veins and teasing at the tip before sucking him into that warm, wet mouth of his.

Sometimes he felt like a monk, full of self-sacrifice and celibacy, but he had issues around sex and love and feelings, deepseeded issues he didn’t want Stiles to have to deal with. So, he bottled everything up, pushed him away whenever he dared stray too close. But that story, the possibility that Stiles would want him in spite of all his flaws had him desperate in a way he couldn’t fully comprehend, just like that ridiculous character in Stiles’ ridiculous story.

He put on the same clothes he’d taken off, not wanting to tip Stiles’ off, and returned to his book, but not before pointedly closing the laptop. It had gone into sleep mode, but he didn’t need the temptation. He returned to the same spot on the couch to await Stiles’ return, still unable to finish the damn chapter.

*

“They were out of the chips you like,” Stiles said as the loft door slid open. “Had to get you sour cream and onion, but at least you won’t steal mine this time.” He smirked at Derek and laid their dinner on the coffee table, slipping off his shoes before crossing his legs and sliding in close. Derek settled on the floor beside him.

They ate in relative silence, Stiles seemingly lost to plot points and sex positions, Derek lost on him. 

He’d gotten so damn good at shutting down his feelings over the years that he hadn’t realized how much they’d grown since Stiles had returned to town six months ago. Their bond had deepened immensely since Stiles' had returned from college, but after reading his story, Derek didn’t think he could shove those feelings back into the box he’d locked them away in. 

They no fit.

“Derek, you’re staring,” Stiles said, whiskey eyes owlish in their concern. “Do I have something on my face?”

Derek shook his head and tried to look away, but he could sense Stiles’ eyes on him and turned back.

“What is it then?” Stiles asked, ducking his head and wiping at the corners of his mouth anyway.

“I read your story,” he blurted out, his conscience getting the better of him.

Stiles lifted his head slowly, his eyes wide with shock when they met his.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have,” Derek continued before Stiles could lay into him about the importance of privacy.

“It’s not about you,” Stiles insisted, his heartbeat betraying the lie.

“It is.”

“Okay, so maybe it is, but I know you don’t feel that way about me. And that’s totally cool, so I write about you instead. I know that’s probably fucked up, and I’m sorry, I won’t publish it. I promise, I just needed an outlet, ya know? For my feelings. And you’re my muse. But please don’t let this change anything between us because I feel like we’ve finally made it to a good place, and I don’t want to ruin that after everything we’ve been through.”

“I don’t wanna ruin it either.”

Stiles’ shoulders relaxed a fraction as he released a heavy breath.

“But I also wanna kiss you, and that’s… well, I guess I never thought you’d be interested.”

Stiles’ eyes almost bugged out of his head as he flailed his arms like a possessed octopus. “Of course, I’m interested, have been since like the day we met. I mean hello, have you seen yourself?”

Derek shrunk under the praise. God, he was all kinds of messed up.

“But that’s not, it’s not just about your looks,” Stiles continued, always knowing what to say to talk him down off the ledge. Stiles turned his whole body toward him and scooted forward to bridge some of the distance between them. “I care about you, a lot, and I like spending time with you and your scowly eyebrows. You’re kind to the ones you care about, fiercely loyal to those you love, and you’re smart and you’re witty, and you deserve to be happy.” 

Stiles’ smile was electric, and Derek kind of wanted to kiss him just to feel the curve of it on his lips.

“I’m a mess.”

Stiles scooted even closer to him. “Like attracts like.”

“It might destroy our friendship.”

“Impossible,” Stiles assured him. Another inch forward.

“Can’t promise I won’t fuck it up.”

And another, so close now Derek could move a finger and touch him.

“No one can promise that. Stop being so hard on yourself,” Stiles said, pausing to sway into him, “that’s my job, if you’ll have me.”

Derek rolled his eyes at the lewd insinuation, but he reached out his arms to pull Stiles in anyway. “We can take things slow, right?”

“Duh, that’s kind of our thing.”

“Then I’m gonna kiss you now. Last chance to change your mind.”

“Not in a million years.”

Derek’s eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned into him. A soft press of lips to start, no urgency, no desperation, only the feel of coming home after being lost for so long, and he knew right then he’d never have another first kiss. So he savored it, let a hand trail down to the hollow of Stiles’ back pulling him close—or just unwilling to let him go—the other curling around Stiles’ neck, thumb tracing his jugular to marvel at his racing heart. The beat matched Derek’s own, wild and untethered.

And when Stiles breath stuttered at the contact, lips parting against his own, he took the chance to taste, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick at the seam of his mouth. Then he waited, for Stiles’ to respond, to reply, to invite him in, and when he did, Derek didn’t hesitate to surge forward, to deepen their last first kiss, to drag it out, to commit every curve of Stiles’ lips and mouth and teeth to memory.

It felt like hours had passed when they broke apart, and somewhere along the way Stiles had crawled into his lap. He buried his face in Stiles’ neck and breathed in his heady scent, not yet able to give up even a millimeter of contact, not now that he’d finally gotten his hands on him. He’d waited far too long for this to let Stiles go that easily.

“You should probably know I have a lot more stories where that came from, if we ever need inspiration. Like  _ a lot, _ ” Stiles muttered into his hair. “Like an unhealthy amount. I might have a problem.”

Derek groaned, but made no attempt to relax his hold. “What have I gotten myself into?

“Me when you’re ready.”

His heart fluttered at the thought, heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, and he hoped Stiles couldn’t see the tips of his ears flush scarlet. “You’re gonna be even more insufferable now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but you love it.”

He did. Because he loved Stiles, though that confession, he’d hold onto for another day. Right now, they had more kissing to do.


End file.
